


Notice

by orphan_account



Category: Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc
Genre: Angst, But he's okay now, I'm a little gay, Ishimaru was hurt in the making of this production, M/M, Mostly Fluff, Second person POV, a few punches were thrown, but also fluff, there's no names used because I said so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:13:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22783093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: You remember everything you loved.Aka I'm a gay kinnie so I wrote more ishimondo,,,,,No beta we die like men (but I did use spell check)
Relationships: Ishimaru Kiyotaka/Oowada Mondo
Comments: 6
Kudos: 88





	Notice

**Author's Note:**

> Two stories in one day?? Who is this man?
> 
> Anyway, take something that I don't know how to categorize. Happy late Valentine's.

The first thing you notice about him, you think, is his eyes. One is silver and one is purple, and they're so angry. You want to ask about why he seems so angry, so pissed off, until you realize that you're staring. That might be why. You notice everything else second. His crazy hair, the jacket that seems too big for him, how  _ tall  _ he is.

People aren't usually taller than you. You're the tallest in your family, even without the boots you're always wearing. It's almost unnerving, but you guess that meeting new people in general is unnerving.

Over time, you notice more. The angry look is a facade. His face softens into a toothy grin whenever he sees a dog. He sleeps in class because it's too easy for him, but he doesn't want to transfer out into a higher level. He yells because he can't hear clearly, and he used to think you were mocking him by yelling back. 

He doesn't like being as tall as he is. He hasn't cut his hair in years. His gang is his family. He doesn't remember his parents. His brother was (and  _ is _ , you remind yourself) his greatest role model. He doesn't like wearing white because he's scared he'll stain something. He's got a nasty punch. He always apologizes if the punch wasn't deserved. 

(You found that out quickly, when a redhead had ducked and you were walking by at the wrong time. You don't think you've ever been more grateful for owning the gym uniform.)

(You don't think you could've paid off a second one. Yours still has faded stains on it from then. You notice that he notices.)

You notice a lot. When he can't sleep, the lines of eyeliner are shorter the next day, because he can't bring himself to be awake enough to care, but he still wants to uphold some sort of image. You notice that no one else notices.

People shy away from him in the hallways, almost unknowingly. He curses up a storm because people are frustrating to him, he can't understand them as well as they can understand each other. You know how that feels. You can understand him, but you're in two different worlds, so you can't tell him that.

You still nag him about the cursing, try to redirect his frustration toward something else. Ripping paper, or scribbling circles. You notice he breaks pencils instead. That irks you just a little.

You still tell him to wake up in class. You still tell him to stand up straight, because if he doesn't, he'll develop some sort of spine issue. You tell him to go to class. Wear a helmet. Put on some sort of color, because people won't warm up to him if he keeps up the intimidating look.

(You probably deserved that punch)

(He starts wearing a white tank top under his jacket anyway)

You notice you tend to walk closer to him in the hallways. He doesn't call you a prick anymore. It takes you another month or so to ask why. Apparently you're friends, in a weird way. His words, not yours.

You know now that he doesn't know how to handle people crying too well. He ends up learning, because you cry a lot. You feel bad about it, but you notice he doesn't care about apologies. He brushes them off like they're flies on a sunny day. You apologize anyway.

He jokes around with you, and his sense of humor has you laughing and telling him he shouldn't use such gutter humor. He laughs because you're laughing about it, and he didn't think you would laugh.

When he laughs, his eyes get squinty, and he laughs with a wide grin. It's cute, you think. 

You notice a lot more.

When he's amused, one side of his lips will curl up just a little. When he's upset, he looks like a statue carved years ago, serious and stony. If he's ever jealous of something or someone, he'll turn his head the other way and his shoulders square more. When he's excited (never describe him as such, no matter how endearing the denial is) you can see the shine in his eyes. 

And when your classmates find photos of all of you, having fun and being friends, you notice that you can't remember any of it.

You notice that you seem to be closer to him in those pictures than you recall. You notice your hands shake, and you notice you don't care if the note leads you to your death.

You notice with shaking, yet sure, steps that the martial artist is the tallest. You hope she makes it out, because even now, you laugh to yourself at the realization that you can't stand the thought of the snob being the tallest one to live. You guess that the smaller things become funnier when you let go of all worry.

You notice, when you're on the ground and bleeding, that the memories are coming back slowly.

You wish you could've carded your hands through his messy hair again. You wish you could have kissed him one more time before it all ended. You wish you remembered earlier, when there was time.

You wish…

You wish…

* * *

You notice, when you finally wake up with annoying beeping to your left, that the first thing you see is silver and purple. 

You don't think you've ever cried so hard for such a happy reason.


End file.
